


There's Always Been a Veil Between Us

by Hooded_and_Cloaked



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e01-02 The Darkest Hour, Gwaine pines and it's sad, M/M, Merlin and Lancelot are in love but stupid, Unrequited Love, cute background elyan/percival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hooded_and_Cloaked/pseuds/Hooded_and_Cloaked
Summary: What if Gwaine hadn't been knocked unconscious by the Cailleach?
Relationships: Elyan/Percival (Merlin), Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 143





	1. It's the Way You Look at Him

“So who’s this Lancelot fellow anyway?” Gwaine nudged Merlin’s shoulder and watched his face close for a reaction. The other knights were across the yard, talking amongst themselves while it wasn’t their turn to spar with Arthur. Lancelot was in the ring, holding his own surprisingly well against the prince. 

“Hmm?” Merlin seemed to return to the present, taking his eyes off the subject of Gwaine’s question.

“Lancelot, Merlin. Who is he? Is his father one of this land’s many noble knights?” He couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“Oh,” Merlin grinned sheepishly. “No, he’s actually not of noble blood at all.”

Gwaine nodded as if he understood, but really, nothing had been illuminated. “How do you know him?”

Merlin leaned forward, gaze returning to Lancelot, resting his elbows on the stretch of wooden fence in front of them. “He saved my life,” He replied.

_I’ve saved your life,_ Gwaine thought in Merlin’s direction. He plopped his elbows down on the plank of wood beside Merlin and looked at him sideways.

“He’s one of the best swordsmen I’ve ever seen,” Merlin continued in excitement. His praise was punctuated by the clashing sound of Lancelot’s skillful parry. “There aren’t many men who can best Arthur in a duel, but Lancelot’s done it. Oh, and you should ask him about the time he slayed a griffin!”

Gwaine studied his friend’s expression, all drawn up in wonder at this new knight-in-training. Merlin’s eyes seemed to glow with admiration, and there was a pride to his sharp features like he was personally responsible for the man’s success. After months at a time of watching Merlin pine after Arthur, risk his life for Arthur, do everything for Arthur, it was strange to see him look at another man the way he looked at Lancelot. There was a time when Gwaine had hoped to be the one to take Merlin’s attention away from the prince, but he’d given up on that after the quest for the Fisher King’s trident. It had been clear then that Merlin would only ever truly have eyes for Arthur. As it turned out, Gwaine now realized, the problem wasn’t with Merlin, it was with him. He wondered which of his many faults had turned Merlin off to him. He decided it was probably his shredded body and unparalleled sense of humor. Finally, he followed Merlin’s gaze back out to the training lawn. “So did you two... Y’know...” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“What?” Merlin cast a look of pure amusement at him. “No, of course not.”

“Are you kidding me? Look at you,” Gwaine gestured at Merlin, then back out to the field. “Look at him! What could be stopping you? Surely he’s not also in love with Gwen.”

Gwaine laughed, despite the creeping feeling that he’d gone too far with that one. Merlin had never actually spoken about his feelings for Arthur, and Gwaine realized only after the words had left his lips that he probably shouldn’t have said that. Merlin shook his head, chuckling, though not out of humor. “You’d be surprised.” He seemed to gloss over the fact that the jab was about Arthur, which did not make Gwaine feel any better. Then he continued, “Besides, it’s not like that. We’re just friends, and he’s too important to me.”

“Is that why you always turn me down too?” Gwaine put a hand to his own chest. “I’m honored.”

“No.” Merlin pushed him with his shoulder, a wide grin across his face. “I tell you no because you’re always drunk when you ask, and you flirt with _everyone_ when you’re drunk.”

“Are you saying if I was sober you’d consider it?” Gwaine asked with a winning smile. 

“Are you saying you’re sober right now?” Merlin replied in mock surprise. 

“Sir _Gwaine!_ “ Arthur’s voice boomed across the training grounds. “Approach!”

It seemed they’d missed the end of Lancelot’s sparring session. Gwaine wished he could say he was disappointed. He picked up his sword and headed out to the field as Lancelot came jogging back in their direction. The smile on Lancelot’s face as he approached Merlin could not be mistaken, and Gwaine knew Merlin had one on to match. 

Less than an hour later, Gwaine was sitting in Gaius’ office with a sprained wrist. Apparently, his hard-learned disarming move didn’t work on princes who’d been ‘trained to kill since birth.’ Arthur had then gone on a ten minute rant about how cheap tricks didn’t win a sword fight like they hadn’t all just recently battled for the continued existence of Camelot together. Gwaine had tried to shake the injury off, but when he demanded a rematch, the first clash of swords nearly had him on the ground again. Merlin was on the field in a second, dragging Gwaine off to Gaius’ despite his adamant protests. Now Merlin stood behind Gaius, watching intently as the physician moved Gwaine’s hand back and forth, asking him different variations on the same question. “Really Gaius, I’m fine,” Gwaine insisted, “Nothing wounded but my pride.”

He chuckled like it was a joke, but he couldn’t help but glance at Merlin. “It’s not broken, is it Gaius?” The concern in Merlin’s voice was touching.

“If Arthur would let us do training drunk, it wouldn’t be a problem at all.” Gwaine squeezed his hand into a fist at Gaius’ prompting, ignoring how much it hurt. 

“No, Merlin,” Gaius replied, giving Gwaine a look for his comment, “It’s not broken. I imagine it doesn’t feel very pleasant, but it is just a sprain.” He pointed a finger at Gwaine, “You should avoid using that hand for at least two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Gwaine scoffed, “Do you want to tell Arthur?”

Merlin scowled. “I’ll tell him. If he doesn’t want his knights immobile by the next time you’re needed, he’ll listen to Gaius.” He put a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. “You get some rest, bring the message to Prince Arthur.”

The way Merlin could make Arthur’s title sound like an insult never ceased to make Gwaine’s heart flutter. He watched him leave, fully aware of Gaius’ eyes on him. The physician didn’t say a word, but the silence was enough. Gwaine thanked him cordially and gave him a theatrical bow before spinning on his heel and heading to his room. He fell onto his bed without thinking and nearly yelped aloud when the impact reached his wrist. He held his hurt arm to his chest and sighed. As nice as it was to have some time off, he didn’t have any wine, and time alone without wine was never good for him. His mind drifted, as it often did, to Merlin, his first and only friend. He recalled the pure mischief in his voice when he told Gwaine about his first meeting with Arthur. He could just picture that cheeky smile and the glint in his eye as he openly made fun of the crown prince of Camelot. That man wasn’t afraid of anything.

In the end, he didn’t get to spend much time relaxing as Arthur decided that he didn’t need both hands to train, and Merlin was at his door to retrieve him in under ten minutes. Doing lunges on the training lawn while everyone else was sparring, Gwaine wondered for the hundredth time how he got roped into becoming a knight.


	2. And the Way He Looks at You

“Shut up about Merlin already, Lancelot.” Gwaine tossed a bread roll at his fellow knight’s head, hitting his mark square on as always. “We get it, you spend every waking moment with the guy.” 

“Oh come on, Gwaine,” Elyan teased, “You’re just jealous because we’re your only friends.”

Feigning offense to cover how much the jab actually hurt, Gwaine protested, “Merlin and I are friends too. Only a true friend would help you steal extra chicken.”

Lancelot for his part looked somewhat abashed and quickly brought his latest Merlin tale to an end. “I don’t talk about him that much.” He defended himself quietly, eyebrows drawn together in concentrated thought. “Do I?”

The knights all glanced at each other in varying degrees of discomfort, except Sir Leon, who was busy giving Gwaine a stern look. After a silence too long for comfort, Elyan spoke up again, “Yeah, you kinda do.”

Percival nodded in agreement, and Elyan rushed to qualify, “We don’t mind though, right guys?”

“No, of course not,” Leon agreed. Percival followed suit, and they all looked at Gwaine.

Gwaine shrugged. “Right, no of course not. Just invite us to the wedding.”

Lancelot chuckled half-heartedly, clearly still trying to wrap his mind around Gwaine’s implication. 

“Really though,” Leon said to Lancelot, shooting one last glare at Gwaine. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Gwaine spread his arms defensively, a playful grin on his face. “I’m just telling you now, if I don’t get to be best man, I’m not coming.”

“Best man?” A voice from behind him startled Gwaine from his wisecracking. “Is someone getting married?”

The table fell silent as Gwaine looked over his shoulder to see Merlin with a plate of food in his hands, looking very eager to be let in on the joke. He sat down in the only empty seat beside Gwaine. “Arthur thinks I’m mending his clothes, so I thought I’d get something to eat.”

“No, my friend.” Gwaine clapped Merlin on the back. “No one’s getting married. Unless,” He pointed between Elyan and Percival, “One of you two finally got up the nerve to ask.”

Percival blushed and Elyan laughed, “Come on, Gwaine.”

“What? You’ve been dating for like, two years.” Gwaine gestured dismissively. 

“We haven’t even known each other for two years.” Elyan shook his head in amusement. “We’ve only been together for three months.”

“Three months and five days,” Percival corrected, grabbing Elyan’s hand, looking around at everyone to make sure they heard.

“Three months and five days,” Elyan repeated, patting the back of Percival’s hand in his.

Gwaine was happy for them, really. He’d grown almost fond of his little band of fools over the past few months. He wasn’t used to settling down and getting to know people, but Percival at least wasn’t terrible to be around. Elyan wasn’t his biggest fan, but that might have had to do with his frequent verbal appreciation of Percival’s arms. Despite this, their budding romance wasn’t as annoying to be around as Gwaine had always imagined. He’d read a lot of stories about people falling in love, and it sounded terrible for everyone else. It sounded a lot like what he saw happening between Lancelot and Merlin. All the same, he did his duty and dramatically pretended to throw up at Percival and Elyan’s sweetness, clutching Merlin beside him for support.

This produced the desired effect as a laugh rippled across the table and Elyan rolled his eyes with a tired “Oh, shut up.” Merlin clapped his hand on Gwaine’s in his merriment, causing a shiver to run through him. Being touched in a friendly manner was also taking some getting used to. He could have sworn he saw Lancelot frown slightly at the contact, but maybe he was imagining things.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“To the knights of the round table!” Merlin’s face was flushed with excitement and wine as he thrust his cup into the air, met with a chorus of cheers. They sat at their regular, rectangular dinner table now, indulging in a celebration of their own achievements. Through the pleasant haze in his mind, Gwaine watched Merlin laugh and joke with the others and wondered how it had been a year already. His eyes drifted to Lancelot, who looked up at Merlin as he always did, like no one else in the world existed. It was oddly comforting to watch them interact, and to know that he was not the only person who would give up everything for Merlin. It was written all over Lancelot’s face. He was in love.

“And to Merlin!” Gwaine shouted as the ruckus died down. “What would we ever do without him?”

“Aye,” Leon laughed, “We’d have to carry our own gear!”

As the table cheered again, a look passed between Merlin and Lancelot as if the latter knew something no one else did. That kind of look happened with suspicious frequency. Gwaine was beginning to think he actually did know something the rest of them didn’t. 

Several hours later, as the small party came to an end and Lancelot was finally distracted, Gwaine stumbled over to Merlin and put his arm around his shoulders. “So, are you ready for tomorrow’s festivities?”

Merlin sighed with unbridled disgust. “Yes, of course. No celebration of Samhain is complete without ordering Merlin around. It’ll be great fun.”

“Oh come on.” Gwaine thumped him on the chest with his free hand. “It can’t be too bad. I’ll be there, after all.”

Instead of joking back like he normally would, Merlin gave Gwaine a genuine smile and wrapped an arm around his middle. “That’s right, you will be.”

Gwaine didn’t let go immediately. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the party, maybe it was the fact that this was the closest he’d gotten to a hug in several years. He looked down at Merlin and thought back to when they’d first met, to the conversation they’d had about his father. A day dedicated to the remembrance of fallen ancestors probably wasn’t his favorite. Especially when he had to work.

The moment was far too brief for Gwaine’s liking. Merlin laughed at nothing, then broke away to rejoin Lancelot, who was intently explaining something to Percival and Elyan. Gwaine watched, the ghost of Merlin’s form pressed to his side, as he seamlessly joined their conversation.

“You going to be okay?” Leon’s voice came out of nowhere.

Gwaine nearly jumped out of his skin. “By all the gods, Leon, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“You’re too late, you know,” Leon said with a somber expression like he wasn’t about to pass out drunk. The words cut Gwaine inside in a way he hadn’t expected, but Leon wasn’t done. “You let excuses get in the way for years until suddenly, one day, they’re not an option anymore.”

Gwaine side-eyed Leon defensively, his chest aching. His feelings for Merlin weren’t exactly a secret, but everyone knew he preferred not to talk about serious matters. After a beat, he sighed in resignation. It wasn’t like Leon would remember the conversation in the morning. “They’re really good for each other, aren’t they?”

“I suppose they are.” Leon looked longingly into the middle distance, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“Are _you_ going to be okay?” Humor rose in Gwaine’s gut in an attempt to assuage his loneliness. He could count on one hand the amount of times he’d seen Leon drink like this. Not that any of them really got a chance to cut loose very often. Between formal functions where it was deemed inappropriate and knightly duties where it could get someone killed, excessive drinking was not a luxury most of them could afford. Tonight was one of those rare occasions when they all had some time off, including Merlin, to everyone’s surprise. Gwaine had to wonder if Lancelot had something to do with that. 

“I’m going to go to bed.” Ignoring the question, Leon rubbed his face and shook himself as if to ward off the storm of emotions he saw on the horizon. “Goodnight, Sir Gwaine.”

“Goodnight, Leon.” Gwaine stared down into his empty goblet. _I think I’ll have another._


	3. I Know You'll Never See Me

“Let me take him.” Once again, Lancelot stole the words right out of Gwaine’s mouth. 

Ice clung to the edges of Merlin’s clothes, his eyelashes, and his fingertips. When Arthur had emerged from the ruins, dragging his limp form, they’d all thought the same thing. These creatures didn’t leave their victims alive. The only thing more terrifying than the scream of a doracha was the silence that followed. And yet, here he was, barely conscious and cold as death, but somehow still breathing. Gwaine heard talking around him, but he registered none of it. His own breaths entered his lungs like shards of glass. He couldn’t shake the fear that this was the last time he would see this man. Merlin. His first friend. The thought gutted him. 

It had been several days since the events of Samhain‘s Eve had set them on this quest. Merlin had been skittish, surly, and not at all himself for the whole journey. Had he known somehow that this would be his fate?

Grief clung to Gwaine’s ribs, immobilizing him, holding him captive as Percival lifted Merlin onto one of the horses. He wanted to say something. He wanted to fight Lancelot for the chance to be the one to save Merlin. Merlin was special. Something about him brought peace to everyone in his presence. He was more than just a servant or a good luck charm. He had likely just given up his life to save Arthur’s. It would be an honor to bring him back to Camelot. 

But it wouldn’t be him. It would be Lancelot. As it should be. Gwaine pushed his body to move. He helped Arthur secure Merlin to his horse, the whispered conversation between prince and servant never reaching his ears. He walked away slowly with the others as Lancelot and Merlin set out. He couldn’t even wish them godspeed. 

“If anyone can save him, Gwaine, it’s Lancelot.” Elyan’s words were hopeful, but his expression was grim.

Glancing from Elyan to Percival and back again, Gwaine felt a false grin creep across his face. The two of them had stuck to each other like glue since this whole thing started, even more then they already did. Gwaine felt empty and lost, but he forced a laugh. “Of course he can. The power of true love can do anything, right boys?”

Elyan looked up at his recently-acquired fiancé and shrugged. “I tried.”

Percival shrugged back. 

Gwaine wished he had a drink. 

The next two days were a blur. Gwaine tried to distract himself any way he could. Talking and singing until the others couldn’t take it anymore, and eating when he couldn’t do anything else. As awful as it was, he was glad of the mission. If hunting the undead was good for nothing else, it took his mind off worrying about Merlin. Even almost getting ripped to shreds by wilddeoren was better than the quiet at the end of the day.

Gwaine pealed off his boots, the stench of travel rising almost visibly. His thoughts closed in on him like the walls of this new ruin they’d found. His friends fled the smell of his socks, and he grumbled alone on his log by the fire until a shuffling noise from outside brought everyone to their feet. Swords drawn, they moved toward the sound. Gwaine’s heart hammered against his ribs. Between his hunger and the lack of sleep, he almost didn’t believe his eyes when he saw Lancelot’s face come into focus in the dark. He wore a terrifyingly grim expression. 

Arthur asked after Merlin, and the silence before Lancelot answered was unbearable. “Bad news,” He said.

A flurry of emotion raged against Gwaine’s chest, followed immediately by relief as the hint of a smile tugged at Lancelot’s lips. “He’s still alive.”

The overwhelming desire to punch Lancelot in the face was forgotten entirely when a healthy, grinning Merlin stepped around the corner. Those two and their pranks. A more insufferable duo could not be found in all of Camelot. Gwaine pushed back the tears that he found brimming in his eyes. He let the others greet Merlin first, hanging back just to watch him move and breathe again. Then he clapped him on the shoulder with a hearty laugh, ignoring the urge to pull the man into his arms and hold him softly against his chest. “You really had us going for a while there.”

“Oh that was Lancelot’s idea,” Merlin replied, a giddy smile still hanging about his face. He seemed in much better spirits than before he almost died.

“I was talking about the near death experience, but of course fooling us was Lancelot’s idea.” Gwaine rolled his eyes. Then he leveled his gaze at Merlin in earnest. He could feel his heart beat in his mouth. All the adventures and fights and trouble he’d gotten into over the years, and still the most terrifying thing he could do was be open and honest with a dear friend. “I’m glad you’re alright, Merlin. You are more than important to me. I... Honestly, I think I would be lost without you.”

Merlin started to shrug off the serious mood, perhaps to say something lighthearted, yet heartfelt, that would make Gwaine fall even harder, but he before he could get the words out, he stopped. A heaviness fell over him. “I think you’d be alright. You’re braver than you think and just as strong.”

Gwaine didn’t know how to respond. This quiet moment hadn’t gone the way he’d expected, but it had gone on for too long. If he didn’t get out of here fast, he was in danger of taking Merlin’s face in his hands and kissing him. Gwaine moved to step away, but quickly found himself wrapped in a tight hug. 

“You’re a good man, Gwaine.” Merlin drew back as quickly as he’d gone in. 

Before Gwaine could ask what all that was about, Merlin had run off to help Arthur. Confusion and concern swirled in his mind. Something was still very wrong.


	4. The Way I See You

“It was not I who created this horror, why should it be I that stops it?” Dark tattered robes shrouded the woman in an evil mystery. The staff she held spoke to a power the likes of which Gwaine had never encountered. But by all the gods, this selfish, petty witch was annoying as hell. They had all been warned as well as possible about this woman. The Cailleach, she was called. Some ancient holdover from the old religion. She stood with the torn veil behind her, simply allowing the doracha to fly in and out, their screams filling the air. 

“Because innocent people are dying.” The authority Merlin carried rivaled Arthur’s in that moment, but all Gwaine could think was, _Why does he always get involved?_

Merlin was a brave man. Despite what Arthur seemed to believe, he was good with a sword, and he never backed down from a fight. He carried a quiet power about him, a confidence that didn’t quite match the façade of weakness that he wore. When he was meant to blend in with the background, he stood with his shoulders slumped, eyes down, but always listening. However, in moments like this, when danger was imminent, he cut an almost imposing figure, looming behind Arthur, lending his strength of spirit to those around him. He didn’t have to be here. He shouldn’t have to be here. No one else took servants with them into battle. Although Gwaine couldn’t deny he had often looked forward to traveling with Arthur, because he knew Merlin would be there, it had never made any sense to him. Merlin wasn’t trained, Merlin wasn’t a knight, and Merlin had a bad habit of endangering his life for the sake of his friends. He was going to get himself killed. 

“Indeed.” The sorceress cackled, her grating voice setting Gwaine’s blood on fire. He glanced to Lancelot and saw the same energy in the tensing of his body and the set of his teeth. Merlin and Arthur were a pair of coiled snakes ready to strike. This woman was evil. If she wanted a life to be sacrificed to the veil so badly, it was going to be hers, and there was no way Gwaine would stand by and watch his friends rush headlong to their doom.

Anger fueled Gwaine as he lifted his sword and bolted forward, a growl emanating from deep in his chest. He felt the heavy handle of his weapon, the ground beneath his feet, and the absolute surety that he would defeat her. Not a second later, everything solid was ripped from him as a force stronger than any wind made impact with his body. Fear replaced confidence as he flew backwards, several feet from the ground, his sword abandoning him in midair. Then pain replaced all other feeling as he slammed into the ground. Voices drifted through the pounding in his head as he tried to lift himself. If he could have processed his thoughts, he might have been offended that no one came to his aid. Not surprised, of course, their mission here was far more important than any one of them, but offended all the same. A stabbing pain in his back threatened to stop him breathing, and any movement sent knives of agony shooting across his body from his left shoulder.

When his surroundings finally began to make sense again, Gwaine heard The Cailleach speaking. “Will you give yourself to the spirits to save your prince?”

Surely she wasn’t talking to Merlin. 

“It is my destiny” Merlin’s steady words rang in the spacious ruins.

How was Lancelot letting this happen? Hell, how was Arthur letting this happen? 

“Perhaps...” The witch’s haughty voice sent shivers down Gwaine’s spine. “But your time among men is not yet over, Emrys, even if you want it to be.”

Gwaine forced his screaming limbs to cooperate. Why the witch was calling Merlin Emrys, he had no idea, but it was all too clear that Merlin was once again attempting to die for his prince, and if no one else was going to stop him, Gwaine would. His heart pumped blood fast and hard from his chest to allow him to move through the pain, and soon enough, he was on his feet. The world moved in slow motion as he took in the scene. Arthur’s unconscious form lay not too far from him. Merlin and The Cailleach circled each other like wild animals, a great stone tomb between them. As the woman spoke those words, both Gwaine and Merlin turned their attention to the veil. There, nearly at its mouth stood Lancelot, a determined peace setting his features heavily.

The sound that Merlin let out twisted Gwaine’s insides. In less than a second, Gwaine realized his position. He was closer to Lancelot than Merlin, he was not being watched by a seemingly all-powerful sorceress, and he was fully capable of stopping this idiocy. Lancelot took one more step forward. Merlin’s cry of anger and grief mirrored Gwaine’s own feelings when Merlin had been the one at death’s door. The choice was made in an instant. Gwaine could only pray that his legs still worked.

Every motion was agony, but pain was nothing new to Gwaine. He pushed on and he pushed through, his sword forgotten, his cloak left behind for fear the thick fabric would slow him down. Lancelot was mere inches from the veil when Gwaine collided with him, his broken bones and strained joints flaring in protest.

“Get off of me!” Lancelot struggled against Gwaine’s weight even as Gwaine attempted to lift himself off of the man.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gwaine saw Merlin surging forward. This could not happen. Lancelot grabbed Gwaine by the chain shirt and tried to pull him down for leverage. “Let me go!” Gwaine jerked backwards finding he had not enough strength to loosen Lancelot’s iron grip. 

Merlin’s footsteps were getting closer. Gwaine bored his gaze into Lancelot’s eyes, making quite certain he had his attention. “Now you listen to me, _Sir Lancelot,_ you and I both know you’re far better suited to take care of Merlin than I am, in every way.” He jerked away again, to no avail. “So you are going to let me do this, you are going to live, and by the gods you are going to tell Merlin how you feel about him!” 

His features awash with confusion, Lancelot still refused to let Gwaine go, but Gwaine was done struggling. He pulled back his fist and delivered a swift blow to Lancelot’s face. The shock caused him to lose his grip, and Gwaine stumbled to his feet just in time to plant himself firmly between Merlin and the veil. Despite the terror that crowded his throat, Gwaine’s path was clear. Merlin’s tearstained face confirmed what he had to do. Gwaine shook his head to brush his hair from his eyes. He smiled broadly at his dear friends. “Well, I guess now would be the time for sappy goodbyes, huh? Too bad I’m not that kinda guy. I just have two things to say. Number one, if you two idiots don’t get married, I’m going to haunt you from the beyond. And number two,” He paused, cursing his eyes for their sudden tears, “Don’t you dare forget about me.”

Before his words could sink in, Gwaine flourished a bow, shot Merlin one last wink, and stepped backwards into the welcoming arms of darkness. As the veil enveloped his form, dulling the anguish in his heart and body, he wondered if this was what it would feel like to be held by the man he loved. Then everything was gone.


	5. I Will Never Forget You

Silence followed the group of six that should have been seven as they rode home to Camelot, victorious, but devastated. Merlin could hardly bring himself to look at Lancelot, let alone talk to him. He wanted to, of course. He wanted to cling to him and sob and ask how any of this was fair. He wanted to make him promise never to try something like that again. He wanted him to understand that it should have been him. It was his destiny. Not Lancelot’s, and certainly not Gwaine’s. Merlin tightened his grip on the reins and bit his lip to stay the flood of tears, but there was no stopping them. All he could do was focus his gaze on Arthur’s back in front of him and try to keep his shaky breathing quiet.

Hardly a word was spoken even as they set up camp. Leon hovered over Arthur like a mother hen until he finally sat down to rest. Elyan and Percival set up their bedrolls together without a hint of their usual levity. Lancelot volunteered for first watch, and Merlin stayed up with him. The quiet between them was by no means comfortable, but when everyone else was asleep, Merlin let out a sigh of relief. He hugged his knees to his chest and finally took a good, long look at Lancelot. The man who knew his most important secret, whose friendship he wouldn’t trade for all the jewels of the kingdom. What could he say to him? His body felt numb, his mind drained. Even his magic felt wrong. There was an empty space in the energy of the universe where Gwaine belonged.

When Lancelot turned his attention to Merlin, he didn’t look away like he used to. This man had searched inside of himself and found that he was willing to die for him. If Gwaine hadn’t stopped him, he would have. He deserved honesty. If Merlin had known he would make it home from this journey alive, he might have taken advantage of their night in the cabin. But he didn’t, because he knew he was going to die. He let his shoulders slump and his gaze fall to the ground. Arthur was the man he would always have to give up everything for. That wouldn’t change. He had already lost more than one friend to his destiny, Lancelot would not be next.

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, pushing out the first of a new spring of tears. He felt a strong arm slide around his shoulders and pull him close. Merlin let himself sink into Lancelot as his other arm came to cradle his head to his chest. He let Lancelot hold him as sobs began to wrack his body. Gwaine didn’t have to ask them not to forget him. There would be a hole in Merlin’s chest forever. He was overwhelmed by the knowledge that by the time fate finally came for him, his heart would be more empty space than flesh. With every hitch of his breath, he gripped Lancelot more tightly to himself. The comfort Merlin found in his arms could not yet soothe him in the wake of this loss, but feeling Lancelot so close grounded him in a way that nothing else had ever been able to do. 

Merlin didn’t know when he fell asleep, but daylight had crept over the horizon when he awoke. His horse was already saddled, and an exhausted Lancelot was receiving a stern talking to from Arthur about waking up others for their turn at watch. As Camelot crept closer, so did an impending sense of finality. There was no body to burn, but Arthur had assured them that Gwaine would receive a hero’s funeral. The thud of horse hooves on packed dirt droned on, mingling with Merlin’s thoughts, blessedly turning them to nonsense.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Merlin.” The quiet voice barely rose above the crackle of the fire. Night had fallen. Darkness shrouded the empty courtyard. “Come inside, please.”

A chill hung in the still air at Merlin’s back, battling the fire’s waning heat in front of him. Gwaine’s cloak had turned to ash long ago, his sword consumed by the flames, but Merlin could not tear his eyes from the blaze. “This is my fault, Lancelot.” His words caught in his throat and came out in a rasp born of disuse.

“Dont blame yourself, Merlin. You tried to stop him. We both did.”

“It was supposed to be me.”

“I was never going to let that happen.”

“Is that supposed to be a comfort?” A cold rage flared in Merlin’s chest. He whipped around to face his friend. “This will not be the last time my life is in danger. Do you think I want to be the last one standing after all of my loved ones have died for me?”

“I’m sorry,” Lancelot offered, his eyes now distant.

The blood drained from Merlin’s face as he realized what he’d said. “No, Lancelot, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“It’s alright. I understand.”

The sincerity in Lancelot’s voice broke Merlin’s heart. He had never know anyone so kind and selfless. He shook his head at his own callousness and turned his gaze back to the flames. “Why does it have to be like this?”

A spark popped in the dying fire, but neither man flinched. Lancelot was quiet for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t have an answer for that. You and I have both seen firsthand how cruel this world can be. It sometimes seems that loss is the only thing we can count on, but that’s not true. The fact that we are standing here together within the walls of Camelot is a testament to that. Even among the pain, there will always be something good to hold on to. For me, right now, that good thing is you.”

“But for how long?” The throbbing ache in Merlin’s chest threatened to consume him. “You say we can count on each other, but that won’t always be true. I have a duty to Arthur and you to Camelot. One day, one of us will die.”

“But today, we’re alive.” Lancelot nodded to the pyre. “We’re alive because of him. All we can do is honor his sacrifice and make certain it was not in vain.”

A fresh wave of grief smothered Merlin. His place in this world put his friends in constant danger, but he couldn’t do this alone. This contradiction tore at him constantly, armed with the knowledge that no matter what their relationship was, nothing could stop Lancelot from putting himself between Merlin and harm’s way. “Of course you’re right.” His voice sounded weak and flat even to him. “I’m just... tired.”

“I know.” Lancelot placed a warm hand on Merlin’s back. “And tomorrow you may have to turn around and give me that same speech.” He chuckled softly. “But that’s what we do, isn’t it? We keep each other strong.”

Despite everything in him begging him to pull away, to say something horrible that would make Lancelot leave him and stay safe, Merlin broke. He flung his arms around him. He didn’t know how long fate would allow him to keep Lancelot, but he needed him. “For Gwaine,” He mumbled into the fabric of Lancelot’s tunic.

“For Gwaine,” Came the reply, steady and serious. “I will never let you go. As long as you want me by your side, Merlin, I will be here.”

Merlin pulled away to look Lancelot in the eyes. He drew his fingers lightly across the dark bruise on his face. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Tonight and all others, if you wish.” A smile touched Lancelot’s lips. “Just like old times, hmm?”

“No,” Merlin replied, taking Lancelot’s hand in his. He took one last look at the pile of wood and ash, now devoid of light. “This will be something entirely new.”


End file.
